


Complete Lunatic

by bomberqueen17



Series: Two-Body Problem [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Barebacking, Beards (Facial Hair), Dirty Talk, Episode Tag, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bomberqueen17/pseuds/bomberqueen17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tags to the middle of season 2.</p><p>Chapter 1 is just after The Hive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John had half-expected Rodney would be waiting in his room when he got out of the shower. He hadn’t really expected that Rodney wouldn’t wait. He was just ducking his head under the main spray nozzle to rinse the shampoo out of his hair when the shower door whooshed open. 

“I thought you were _dead_ ,” Rodney said, and John wiped soapy water out of his face and turned to see that Rodney was standing in the shower doorway, fully clothed and angry-looking. 

“We talked about this already,” John said. They had, in the infirmary.

“Yes but I’m not done talking about it,” Rodney said. 

“Get your clothes off and get in here,” John said. 

Rodney looked cross for about an instant longer, and then John put his tongue between his teeth, cocked an eyebrow, and wrapped a hand around his own half-hard dick and Rodney’s eyes went wide.

“Fine,” Rodney snapped, and stepped back out of the doorway to shuck his clothes. John rinsed his hair quickly, and by the time Rodney came back, John was leaning against the perpetually-warm weird metal wall and lazily stroking his cock into a full erection. 

“I was worried about you too, Rodney,” John murmured as Rodney came across the shower stall and pinned John to the weird metal wall with the broadness of his shoulders. 

“Yes but,” Rodney said, “you always do that. You always disappear and leave us hanging for a dramatic duration of time until you finally call and say you’re okay.”

“The dramatic duration of time is usually the amount of time it takes me to get to a safe place and re-establish communication,” John said reasonably. “I’m not doin’ it to fuck with you, Rodney.”

“One of these times I’m going to die of a heart attack,” Rodney groused, and his hair was flattened wet to his head, and it was adorable. 

“Don’t do that,” John said, and bit the tip of his pointy nose. Rodney squeaked and pulled back.

“I’m serious, though,” Rodney said. “We’ve got to stop letting you have those kinds of close calls.” And it was sort of a cute thing to say, but it was also sort of intensely serious, and John slid both hands up Rodney’s water-slick sides and closed his eyes. They weren’t doing this, they weren’t becoming the sorts of people who were mushy and emotional with each other. No fucking way. 

“I don’t do it on purpose,” John said. “And if it bothers you so much, you know, I bet you could still salvage things with that redhead. She still watches you when nobody’s looking.”

Rodney pressed his body in close against John’s, slippery with hot water, and took John’s mouth, pushing his head back against the wall to give his tongue deeper access. He was hard, and with just a little twist of his hips he had his erection slotted neatly next to John’s, sandwiched between their bellies. John had to break off kissing to gasp for breath. “I almost died too, you know,” Rodney said. 

“I know,” John said, and pressed the side of his jaw against Rodney’s temple as their bodies slid together. “Don’t do that.”

“I had no choice,” he said. “But,” and he pulled back to look into John’s face, raising a hand to gesture, “you should’ve seen me! I took out those two guards on my own, and boy were they surprised.”

“I bet they were,” John murmured, and slid his mouth wetly into Rodney’s, tightening the circle of his arms around Rodney’s body. “I bet you were totally hot, too, when you were super-strong and macho.”

“I was,” Rodney insisted, as if John were being sarcastic.

“I know,” John said, smiling at him and closing his eyes. “Mmm.” He moved his hands down to cup Rodney’s ass and pull him closer. “I wouldn’t have been surprised, you know,” he went on. “To see you like that. I know you’ve got it in you. You don’t have to be drugged-up to be strong, Rodney.” 

Rodney pulled his face away a little again, eyebrows lowered in suspicion. “We both know I’m a man of intellect and not of action,” he said. Even though his hard dick was rubbing against John’s right now, and his body language was completely into it, he was still arguing. John half-smiled at him, letting his fondness show.

“And I’m a man of action, not of intellect,” John said, lazily shoving his hips up into Rodney’s, picking up a foot to run it up the back of Rodney’s solid calf. “But that doesn’t mean I’m a moron, and doesn’t mean you’re completely physically inept. I know you can hold your own in a fight. I know you’re stronger than you look. Of course you’d need a little boost, to deal with odds like those, but hell, so would I.”

“I’m,” Rodney said, but uncharacteristically fell silent, and John crowed inwardly at this unprecedented feat. He knew to confine himself externally to a smirk, though, or Rodney would think he was making fun of him. 

“I know,” John said. “C’mere and let me suck you off, studmuffin.”

Rodney spluttered, but without real indignation. “Studmuffin,” he said. “Now I know you’re fucking with me.”

“I could be,” John said, “if you’d stop talkin’ and start fuckin’.” He wriggled out of Rodney’s grasp and slid down the wall, licking his way down Rodney’s wet torso as he went, winding up half-pinned against the wall on his knees. 

“Oh,” Rodney said, “oh, I— oh.”

“Yeah,” John said, and swallowed him down. Rodney made the _best_ noises, absolutely the best ever, when John had him like this. It pleased John in a way that wasn’t only sexual— something about Rodney’s pure transparent delighted happiness lit up a place John hadn’t known was dark. It just felt right, in an inexplicable and beautiful way. 

It really should’ve been terrifying, but John decided that, you know, he _had_ almost just died, again, and he deserved to let himself have this, at least this once. 

He sucked Rodney for a good long while, until his knees were starting to protest the hard floor. He was willing to finish things off this way, but Rodney put his hands in John’s hair and after a little while, pushed him back. “Wait,” he said, breathing hard, “wait, I— not yet—“

John let Rodney’s cock slide slowly out of his mouth, and pouted up at him, enjoying the way Rodney’s eyes were a little glassy, and fixed themselves on his mouth. “What do you want?” he asked, running his hands down his own body. His neglected cock was so hard that just brushing against it made him shiver. 

Rodney got down on the floor and kissed him. “I wanna fuck,” he said. John let his eyebrows do the interrogation, and Rodney pressed his body up against John’s. “I mean, I want— I want you— in me.”

“You wanna take this to a bed?” John asked. 

“No,” Rodney said, “I want it _now_.”

“Pushy,” John said approvingly, and rolled them both down onto the floor. It was wasteful of both water and power, but the showers here never ran cold unless Rodney wanted them to. Rodney rolled onto his back, wrapping his legs around John, and John slid his fingers down to Rodney’s asshole. “I don’t have any lube in here, though,” he said. 

“We’re wet enough,” Rodney said, “Jesus, get in me, Sheppard.”

“No rubber either,” John said. 

“I haven’t fucked anybody else since my last physical oh, twelve hours ago,” Rodney said, sarcasm managing to break through his frantic arousal for at least a moment, “and it’s been less than an hour for you so that’d be pretty impressive if you had?”

“Point,” John said, and truth be told he was kind of at the point where he wasn’t about to get out of this shower either. He slid his fingers in Rodney’s ass and was rewarded with yet another absolutely wonderful McKay sex noise. 

These noises sounded nothing, John thought distantly as most of his brainpower was taken up with opening Rodney’s body up, like the ones he’d been faking under that console. Maybe one day he’d have to record Rodney and play it back so the guy could learn the difference between sex noises and other ones. Because Rodney sometimes made sex noises at other times, but it was never, never on purpose. 

“Oh God,” Rodney said, twisting under John’s hands, tipping his head back against the shower floor, “oh, oh God, fucking, fuck, Sheppard, get _in_ me.”

“Are you sure we don’t need to stop and get some damn lube?” John said.

“Oh—oh,” Rodney said, “no, c’mon, you want an engraved fucking invitation?”

“Maybe,” John said, but Rodney was apparently not wrong, John had three fingers in him and it didn’t seem to be causing any damage. “Maybe with that raised text stuff. Embossed?” Still, John spat a nice thick deep-throating loogie onto his fingers and used it to work his cock head into Rodney quick before the water washed it away. Rodney made some really astonishing noises, some shrill and some guttural but none in any way distressed, and wrapped his legs around John. 

“Fuck me,” Rodney panted, “oh God, fuck me,” and John really, really had no option but to do it, sinking into him with as much patience as he could muster before his back muscles seemed to take over of their own volition. 

John regained enough self-possession to haul Rodney’s pelvis up into his lap and get his legs under himself so he was fucking up into Rodney’s arched body, cradling his hips in his hands. Rodney made an awesome mewling noise, scrabbled a bit, and got his legs up wrapped around John’s body. John held onto them and braced himself, getting a proper grip. Once he had that, he could really give it to Rodney, hard and deep, and Rodney shouted and hollered and panted and moaned and generally gave John a fantastic ride. 

“God,” John said, “you, Rodney, fuck,” in his characteristically eloquent manner. One of these days maybe he’d learn how to string a sentence together in bed, but definitely not today. Definitely not when Rodney shoved himself up a little bit to change the angle and then twitched, hard, with John’s next thrust, and let out a shuddering moan, rolling his head to the side, eyes wide and glazed, crying out a little with every subsequent thrust and making it absolutely crystal fucking clear that this was exactly the perfect angle. John bit his lips and fucked Rodney good, working him on his cock and feeling it so, so clearly, right there, that right there, that was the perfect spot. 

“Oh God,” Rodney said, voice wavering, “yes, oh Christ, like that— right there—“ 

“Yeah,” John said, and either he was starting to tremble or Rodney was, or maybe both of them, “yeah—“

Rodney made a series of increasingly frantic and gasping little moans, scrabbling at John’s thighs, shivering hard, “Fuck,” and he shuddered, “oh, Jesus, fuck, Sheppard, I’m— yes— oh God— like that— I’m gonna— oh holy— oh fuck—“ 

“Yes,” John said, “Rodney—“ Rodney was coming, shuddering and jerking and crying out incoherently as his cock spurted, nobody’s hands anywhere near it, and John fucked him through it like he knew he liked. He was going to pull out but Rodney was clenching down around him so hot and so tight and Jesus Rodney had come everywhere, all over himself, he couldn’t hold off long enough, and went off like a rocket still buried all the way inside him. “Rodney— God—“ He shuddered and shook, thighs trembling as he stayed shoved in balls-deep, the spasm yanking his thighs and buttocks and hands and back all tight and immobile. 

It felt like he emptied himself out entirely, like there was nothing left inside him. He collapsed slowly down onto Rodney, panting for breath. 

“Holy shit,” Rodney managed finally, as the last tremor loosed its hold on John and let him collapse slowly downward. 

“Jesus,” John said brokenly, “Rodney— I can’t— that was— I lov—“ He bit it off in time, coming back to himself; _we don’t use words like that anymore, John, you moron_. God, what a slip. “Oof.” 

He slowly let Rodney down and pulled very carefully out; he hadn’t gone soft yet and Rodney was still staring vacantly at the ceiling. John wiped his wet face, tilted his shoulder back so water ran down his chest, and put his hand down, sliding his fingers slowly, gently, exploratively into Rodney’s hole. 

Rodney moaned a little, lying completely loose-limbed and sprawled wide. “Yeah,” John said, low and satisfied, “we better clean you up, that’s so dirty.” Rodney was gorgeous like this, flushed red and limp and completely un-spiky. Happy, maybe that was it. “You should look like this all the time,” John said, before he caught himself— what a sappy thing to say, but it was true, it was like none of the forces of life that had shit on McKay and squashed him into a spiky, unhappy, awkward hunch had ever touched him. 

John was saved by Rodney assuming it was still filthy talk. Rodney sat up, laughing, but his guards were still down, he was still bright and open and soft-faced. “I think lying naked and fucked-out on a shower floor for more than a tiny fraction of my time would be terrible for my career, let alone how pruney my toes would be,” he said, and caught the back of John’s neck to pull him in for a messy kiss. “But you can think of me like this all the time if you want.”

“Prolly bad for my career to have an erection all the time,” John said, “not to mention my blood pressure.”

They stood on wobbly legs and rinsed off, Rodney making a funny face as he washed his ass. “I’ve never actually had… you know,” he said. “In my…”

“Not our brightest idea,” John said, grimacing a little. 

“I, um,” Rodney said, blushing even brighter, “kinda, um, kinda liked it.” John blinked at him. “I mean. Both the doing, ‘cuz it felt different, and kinda, um, kinda the aftermath. It’s, um, it’s dirty.”

“In a good way?” John asked, skeptical. 

Rodney’s blush answered for him, and John laughed, licked his neck under his ear, and turned the water off. “There’s not enough water on this planet to clean _you_ up,” John said, tugging at Rodney’s hip to pull him out of the shower. 

“Yeah but we just tried,” Rodney said. “I honestly, if Zelenka wonders about the power consumption…”

“It’s my quarters,” John said. He shrugged. “Maybe I fell asleep in the shower. It does talk to me, you know. What with my psychic emotional connection to the city, and all.” He waggled his fingers, then found his spare towel and slung it around Rodney. 

Rodney laughed. “Where are you getting that?”

“Fanfiction,” John said. He wrapped himself in his other towel, and scrubbed at his hair to work some of the water out. He had to get it mostly dry before he could sleep. 

“Jesus,” Rodney said. “You’re hopeless. Do you still read that?”

In most of the stories, Rodney and John were foolishly, teenagerishly in total true epic love, and it was probably really really unhealthy that John sometimes really found it comforting to read that. They were mostly ridiculous, but occasionally, very occasionally, one would be plausible, if you squinted, and if you didn’t know that John was as broken as he was. 

“Eh,” John said, and shrugged. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode tag to Epiphany. John has a beard and even more psychological issues.

 

Sheppard wasn’t just hairy and dressed funny, he was skittish like a wild animal. Rodney walked him back to his quarters and they both hesitated at the door. Rodney realized Sheppard was looking for a doorknob. He’d forgotten how to open the doors on Atlantis. He remembered after only a second’s pause, but the hitch was noticeable, and from the dart of his eyes, he knew Rodney had noticed. 

Rodney followed him through the door, since he seemed to expect it. Sheppard watched the door slide closed again, then turned and looked around the room as if he… well, as if he hadn’t seen it in six months. Right. Rodney had been in here yesterday evening, briefly, convincing Sheppard to come back to his place for sex and snuggling and sleep. Sometimes Sheppard wouldn’t, before missions, but he had last night. 

But for Sheppard, that had been half a year ago. Carson had confirmed it. Sheppard was healthy, even more so than usual— he’d been eating an extremely clean diet, almost no cholesterol and absolutely no preservatives, no sugar, very little sodium, slightly deficient in a few minerals but very good for his circulation and heart. No reading, no computer screens, meant that the eyestrain headaches he’d increasingly complained of were totally gone. He’d been exercising and had apparently avoided stress, though his brain chemistry hinted at depression. It was enough of a change from his last physical— in their timeline, only a matter of weeks before— to indicate quite a passage of time.

“I forgot,” Sheppard said suddenly, his voice a little rusty.

“What?” 

“I forgot we don’t share a bathroom anymore,” he said. “I was just going to warn you that it was probably going to take me a while to get this off.” He pointed at his jaw. 

“I kind of like it,” Rodney said. 

“I look like a crazy person,” Sheppard said. 

“They didn’t have razors, but they did have scissors?” Rodney asked, gesturing at Sheppard’s hair, which was about the length it normally was. 

Sheppard half-smiled. “I’ve had to shave pretty much daily for about twenty years because of regs,” he said. “I’d never actually grown a beard before. I figured I’d give it a try, since nothing mattered.”

“It seemed nice in there,” Rodney said. Sheppard peeled himself out of his tall boots, shed the weird vest-thing, and moved toward the bathroom, but still seemed to expect Rodney to follow, so he did. 

“It wasn’t a bad place,” Sheppard said. “The people were sweet, and all, but it was boring as fuck, and it was six goddamn months. I waited four days in that cave, thinking you guys would be right behind me. It took more than two days for you to throw that pack through, with the water and Powerbars and whatever you had in your pockets.”

Rodney nodded, grimacing. “I got that pack together as soon as I figured out what was going on. For us, it was a little over ten minutes, I think.”

Sheppard shook his head wonderingly, and went into the bathroom, looking around almost curiously. He’d been away longer than he’d lived in this room. “It’s so fuckin’ weird,” he said. “I just… I can’t… it was six months ago, that I left that comb sitting there.” He picked it up, put it back in its proper place on the shelf, and got out his razor. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. “I look like a complete idiot with this beard,” he said. 

“I kind of like it,” Rodney said again. He wanted to kiss Sheppard; he hadn’t made out with a bearded guy since he lived in Russia. It was fun. Bristly, sort of gross fun.

“Took me like four days to grow it,” Sheppard said. “I knew my facial hair came in fast, but it was kind of ridiculous.”

“I’m not surprised,” Rodney said. He came over and hopped up to sit on the counter next to the mirror. “Hey. You kinda look like a pirate. A sexy pirate.”

Sheppard blinked at him, fleetingly looking almost alarmed, then managed a feeble version of his flirty half-grin. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Yeah well,” Rodney said, “nobody’s ever said I wasn’t ridiculous.” 

Sheppard looked at him for a long moment, then stepped hesitantly closer. Rodney hooked his foot around the back of Sheppard’s thigh, urging him to stand closer, between Rodney’s knees. Sheppard came a little closer, but didn’t quite close the distance. Rodney reached out and took the neckline of the strange white shirt between his fingers, feeling how it was turned down and hand-sewn. “You look good like this,” Rodney said. “It’s not fair, I’d look like a complete lunatic in that outfit.”

“I’m pretty sure I actually do look like a complete lunatic,” Sheppard said. “I kind of… I got no illusions, here, Rodney.”

“It’s weird to say I missed you when you were only gone a couple of hours,” Rodney said. “But for most of that time, I was panicking that you’d be dead of old age before I saw you again, or maybe that you’d been ripped into atoms by the tidal forces of the time anomaly at that doorway, so… I kinda packed a lot of worry into a short period of time, even for me.”

Sheppard let Rodney pull him in closer, let Rodney’s hands slide around his lower back, settling just above his ass. “I thought you guys had to have given up on me,” he said quietly. “By the end of the first week I was starting to doubt you’d ever come. By the end of the first month I thought for sure you weren’t coming for me. And it… well, it kind of bummed me out, a lot.”

“You really thought we wouldn’t come for you?” Rodney asked. 

Sheppard shrugged. He was looking down, though their proximity meant he had to be staring at Rodney’s collarbone rather than anything at a distance. “Yeah,” he said. “I thought you must’ve written me off.”

“Never,” Rodney said. “I never would. We never would. You know that. I had to basically wrestle Ronon away from the door. But you know me, Sheppard. You know I wouldn’t abandon you. You had to know there was a reason we didn’t just come for you right away.”

“It was a really long time,” Sheppard said. 

“And you’ve been abandoned before,” Rodney finished for him. “I know you have. I know you’ve always been let down before. And I know it’s gotta be hard for you to believe, really believe, deep down in your heart, that we’ll be different. But if nothing else, Sheppard, believe in my massive arrogance. It would never, ever allow me to leave you behind.”

Sheppard managed a feeble huff of a chuckle at that, but didn’t look up, and sobered quickly. “You already proved me wrong to doubt you,” he said. “And once you account for the temporal shift, it was a pretty timely rescue. It’s just, I didn’t know, you know? I couldn’t imagine what would possibly take months to orchestrate, when there was a jumper right there and the ridge right there and how could you not just fly in and how hard could it be?”

He shook his head, and finally looked up into Rodney’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I doubted you guys. I really, completely gave up.”

“It’s okay,” Rodney said, perplexed. “It’s understandable. I’m sure we can all forgive you.”

Sheppard was looking fixedly down again. “I, um,” he said, shoulders tense and rigid. 

“What?” Alarm shot through Rodney’s gut. Sheppard looked like he was bracing himself to reveal something really awful. Rodney couldn’t even imagine what it could possibly be, though. 

“I, um,” Sheppard said, and pulled back about half a pace, so Rodney’s hands slid to his hips. He looked up. “I— um, Rodney— I kind of…” He bit his lip, visibly made himself meet Rodney’s eyes, and said, “I was, I was unfaithful. To you.” His eyebrows pulled together and he looked down and away. 

“Oh,” Rodney said, and it hurt, a little, but, wait a damn minute, they had rules about this. “Oh, with that chick?”

“Yeah,” Sheppard said, eyes fixed on the floor. “I— I slept with her. Twice. Right at the end. I didn’t— and it— I didn’t even really care about her, I just felt like nothing mattered anymore and I just— I’m sorry, Rodney. I thought I’d never see you or anyone I cared about again so there just wasn’t any reason to turn her down.”

Rodney put his hands on Sheppard’s shoulders. “Sheppard,” he said slowly. “Weren’t you just trying to get me to date someone else? I mean like, last month we had this conversation. In my timeline, anyway. And you said you didn’t want to get in the way of me dating someone else.”

Sheppard flickered a glance up at him uncertainly, then away. “Yeah,” he said cautiously.

“I know I don’t always understand your rules,” Rodney said, “but if by those rules, it’s okay for me to seek out lasting romantic entanglements with other people, even with you right here… how the hell is it wrong for you to sleep with somebody because you’re pretty sure you’ll die alone otherwise?” 

Sheppard bit his lips, worrying at the lower one for a moment, then looked up again. “That’s different,” he said. 

“No it’s not!” Rodney exclaimed. “Jesus, Sheppard, if I deserve not to be alone, so do you! Either we’re exclusive or we’re not, and it applies to both people. Christ.”

Sheppard looked a little shocked at that, bit his lip again, and said to Rodney’s shoulder, “I just never, I never did that before.”

“Did what?” Rodney asked. 

“Fucked someone I didn’t care—“ He bit it off, looked at Rodney a little wide-eyed, then looked away again. “I mean. Um.” 

“Fucked someone you didn’t care about,” Rodney said softly, and swallowed hard. It was the closest thing he’d ever gotten to an emotional confession out of Sheppard, and it made something sort of melt down under his collarbones, in the middle of his torso. He pulled Sheppard closer, slid his hands to cradle Sheppard’s jaw, and turned his face up to take his mouth. “Sheppard,” he murmured. 

Sheppard kissed him back like he was starving for it. This, Rodney thought as he slid off the counter to press his body against Sheppard’s, this was the reward for putting up with this man’s insanity. 

And yeah, beard makeouts were fun and bristly and less sort-of-gross than Rodney remembered, or maybe Sheppard’s beard was just hotter than most. Beard makeouts turned into heavy petting turned into Sheppard fucking Rodney long and hard, and that in turn eventually gave way to both of them curled into a tight little set of spoons on Sheppard’s tiny, hard bed. 

Sheppard woke him with one of his night terrors, like he’d had just after the bug transformation incident, and Rodney held him and murmured to him, kissing John’s neck as he trembled and shook, eyes shining glassy and unseeing in the dark. Maybe the pre-Ascended chick had soothed him through these in that weird half-a-year-that-wasn’t, but maybe not. Rodney had a moment’s clarity, there in the dark, realizing that it was unlikely that Sheppard would have let someone he “didn’t care about” talk him down from his nightmares. Rodney was special, somehow. Even if Sheppard wouldn’t admit to any feelings in particular, even if they couldn’t be seen together or openly acknowledge one another, they definitely had something, here, and Sheppard insisting Rodney find a girlfriend was some sort of self-delusional bravado.

Sheppard’s trembling eased, in the circle of Rodney’s arms, and he made a sound like a sob and folded down against Rodney’s chest, making himself as small as he could. “Rodney,” he whispered. That meant he was awake; he didn’t know Rodney’s name in his nightmares. And that was maybe the most heartbreaking part of all of it— after all the horrifying shit they’d been through in the Pegasus Galaxy, the things that Sheppard flashed back to in his sleep, the things that still clawed at his subconscious, were all things that had happened on Earth.

“I’ve got you,” Rodney murmured, working his fingers through Sheppard’s crazy hair and finding the curve of his skull, the warmth of his scalp. “It’s all right now.”

Sheppard didn’t speak, just burrowed in closer as if to hide under the bulk of Rodney’s shoulder, and pressed his forehead into Rodney’s chest. Rodney thought of saying something more, but he was so warm and heavy and sleepy, and instead he drifted back off to sleep.

 

 

Rodney never admitted that he missed the beard, but he occasionally gave John’s perpetual chin scruff a contemplative rub, when they were alone. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode tag to Grace Under Pressure: of _course_ , near death, Rodney hallucinated _tits_. It just fucking figured.

As the jumper ramp closed, Zelenka retracted the shield, muttering about power. John realized that Rodney was still in the back, muttering to himself or something. “Hey,” John said, and slid out of the pilot’s chair. Rodney was glazed-eyed, not shivering at all, and his shoulder was wet and too cold to be alive under John’s hand. 

“Shit,” John said, but Zelenka was busy with the power stuff. Rodney was freezing. John had no time, he had to get them out of here. He shoved Rodney down into the navigator’s chair behind the pilot’s seat, and touched his face to make him look up. “Rodney. Rodney. Look at me. Hey.”

“Hey,” Rodney said vaguely. There was blood streaking all down his face, diluted with blood and fresh, still bleeding, from a big cut on the side of his forehead, and his eyes weren’t quite pointing the same direction. John’s gut clenched at how bad he looked, but there wasn’t any time. 

“You gotta sit tight, Rodney, okay? Rub your arms, you gotta warm up. I’m gonna get us up out of this water, and then I’m gonna take care of you. Stay awake, okay?” He kept his hand on Rodney’s face and the skin was clammy, horribly cold. “Stay awake, buddy.”

“Okay,” Rodney said vaguely.

“Colonel Sheppard,” Zelenka said, quietly urgent.

“If you can spare a hand, keep him awake,” John said, reluctantly letting go of Rodney’s freezing face. He slung himself into the pilot’s chair and brought up the engines. 

“He was right about decompressing,” Zelenka said. “I have the pressure dialed up in here, we’re going to have to take it slow on normalizing. But it should be okay by the time we get back, we’ll be able to open the jumper ramp. Just, your ears.”

“Got it,” John said. “Hey, when you get a second, if you can wrap a blanket around him or something, he’s not doing so hot.”

“Once I have the shield adjusted properly, yes,” Zelenka said. 

John nodded. “I can surface as fast as I want, right? We have the pressure adjusted inside, right?”

“Oh,” Zelenka said, “get us the hell out of here, please.”

“Done,” John said, and punched them up through the black, then blue, then green water, up to the sky. 

By the time he had them on course for Atlantis, Zelenka was sitting on the floor with Rodney wrapped in a blanket, chafing his hands. “<Come on, Rodney,>” Zelenka said in Russian. “<Stay with me.>”

John looked back. You really couldn’t leave the controls of the jumper— even in space, you had to keep the thing going straight and couldn’t always rely on the proximity sensors to keep you out of trouble. It didn’t have an autopilot, not to speak of. “Get his clothes off,” John said, fumbling for words, “the cloth will just, just take his heat when it’s wet.” He really wanted to go help, but couldn’t let go. God. They’d almost lost Rodney.

Zelenka stared blankly at him. “<You speak Russian?>” 

Fuck. That was why the words hadn’t come fluidly. “<Yeah>,” John said. 

“<This whole time,>” Zelenka said disbelievingly, but he was unzipping Rodney’s jacket. 

“<Yeah,>” John said. “<I was waiting until was funny to spring on you. Sorry. I forgot.>”

“<You are, perhaps, insane,>” Zelenka said, rolling Rodney out of his pants and into the blanket.

“<Captain Crazypants,>” Rodney slurred. 

“<Aw, don’t tell anybody,>” John said. 

Zelenka chafed Rodney’s bare arms and wrapped him tighter in the blanket. “<“There is no one left to tell,>” he said sadly, and John knew it was true— none of the new personnel spoke Russian particularly well. 

John sighed. “<True,>” he said. He glanced back. “He shiverin’ yet?”

“<No,>” Zelenka said, “<he is like a dead fish.>”

“Shit,” John said. That wasn’t good. And Christ, his head was still bleeding pretty badly. “You willin’ to climb in that blanket with him?”

“I am not eager to do so, no,” Zelenka said. “He is cold!”

“Drag him up here,” John said. “I’m bigger than you, I give off more heat, I’ll hang onto him.”

“Can you fly like that?” Zelenka asked, but he had his hands under Rodney’s arms and was tugging him across the floor. Rodney kicked his feet a little but made no particular attempt to stand.

“I can fly like anything,” John said, and with one hand he helped Zelenka pick Rodney up and sit him in John’s lap. John put the blanket over the top of him, and unzipped his vest and jacket to let Rodney closer to his skin. Rodney was pretty much dead weight, but he could kind of brace him against the dashboard, and that was something. “How are we on power?” John asked. 

“Bad,” Zelenka said, “but we’ll make it if you make no mistakes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” John said, and settled Rodney into his lap, against his body. Rodney was aware enough to curl up against him, snaking an icy arm under his jacket around his back, pressing his cold face against John’s collarbone. His whole body was a cold weight; he didn’t feel alive.

“I am going to keep working to reduce atmospheric pressure by correct degrees,” Zelenka said. 

“Yeah,” John said, “do that.” Rodney started to shiver, suddenly, and John had to clamp one arm around his waist, over the blanket, to hold him steady. “Hey, buddy,” he said to Rodney. “That’s good. Shivering’s good. Can you talk to me?”

“Sheppard,” Rodney muttered. 

“That’s good, buddy, that’s me,” John said. Rodney was freezing, his body so cold he still felt wet, but he was down to damp cotton boxers, and his skin was dry under the dry blanket. The cold was just the bone-deep cold of all of his tissues. “Sheppard to base,” John said, “anyone read?”

“Yes,” a voice crackled back, the tech, “what’s your status?”

“We have McKay,” John said. “Griffin was killed when the windshield collapsed, but McKay survived. The rear compartment was nearly full of water and we were unable to raise the jumper, but Zelenka did some magic shield things, we’ll explain it in the AAR. McKay’s alive, but hypothermic and with a head wound, probably a concussion, he’s in rough shape but hangin’ on.”

There was a minor uproar over the radio, then, and John “yeah”’d absently now and again while they all worked that out among themselves. He was feeling Rodney’s shivering and wondering how much worse it could get. “Hey,” John said, “is Beckett around? I could use some advice on treating hypothermia.”

There was a scramble, then Beckett came on. “He was soaked through?”

“Yeah,” John answered, “so we took most of his clothes off and wrapped him in a dry blanket.”

“That will help,” Beckett said, “but if he’s already cold, he may have no body heat to generate on his own.”

“I got him sitting in my lap,” John admitted. “He’s kinda hard to hang onto. Bigger than a cat, kinda heavy. But he’s shivering now, when he wasn’t before.”

“Keep him conscious,” Beckett said. “Be careful rubbing his skin, he probably won’t have full sensation so he won’t know if you’re damaging tissue. Body heat is best so you don’t burn him with heat sources, focus on his core, try to keep him awake.”

One of Rodney’s hands had made its way up under John’s shirt and was splayed out, agonizingly cold, against the skin of John’s back. John took the other one and pushed it up the front of his shirt, knowing the blanket covered them both, and spread it out across the middle of his chest, pressing Rodney’s cold arm against the rest of his torso. He hissed at the cold; it was like wrapping himself in ice cubes. “Got his hands on my skin,” John said. “It’s just as uncomfortable as it sounds, I tell you what.”

“Aye,” Beckett said, “greater love hath no man for his friends. How bad is the head wound?”

“He’s conscious, ish,” John said. “Mostly coherent when we got him, a little confused. Hey. Buddy. Talk to me?”

“Sheppard,” Rodney said, teeth chattering. “She said— she said you’d c— come.”

“Yeah okay,” John said. “He’s talking, Beckett, I just don’t think he’s got a lot of sense in him either way.”

“Keep him warm and calm,” Beckett said, “I’ll be ready when he gets here.”

Zelenka pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Rodney’s trailing feet. “He is blue,” Zelenka said.

“No shit,” John said, and his own teeth were chattering now. Rodney’s big hands were sucking warmth out of him like heatsinks, and he’d started to shiver, though not as badly as Rodney.

“I adjust the temperature in cockpit,” Zelenka said, and closed the doors to the rear hatch. “We are low on power but a few degrees will not kill us. Pressure is normalizing by degrees, he will at least not get the bends.”

“Good,” John said, and shivered. Rodney was shivering hard now, and it was difficult to keep the jumper on course. Rodney’s face was tucked tight against his neck, and he let himself tip his jaw down against Rodney’s forehead, resting his head against Rodney’s. “Hey. It’s okay, Rodney. I’ve got you.” 

Blood was probably getting all over his shirt and jacket, he realized. Well, it couldn’t be helped. “Cold,” Rodney murmured plaintively. 

“Hang in there,” John said. He remembered they weren’t alone just in time to stop himself from planting a kiss on Rodney’s temple. But when he glanced over at Zelenka, the other man looked away with a blush. “<It’s not even secret, is it,>” John said to him in Russian.

“<What?>” Zelenka asked innocently, blinking. John looked at him, and he abandoned the pretense. “<Well, no, but neither do we discuss it particularly.>”

John shook his head. “<I don’t know why didn’t work out for him that scientist girl,>” he said. 

“<I do not know why he bothered,>” Zelenka said. “<He is terrible with people. You are most likely the only person who could understand him well enough to still be attracted to him.>”

“That’s not true,” John said, startled into English. 

“<Oh, my friend,>” Zelenka said, “<it definitely is. Don’t forget, I have known him for years and still every day I struggle with not killing him. He is a good friend when it strikes him to be, but it often does not strike him.>”

“<He does okay,>” John said. “<Mostly. Sometimes.>”

“<Captain Crazypants,>” Rodney said, teeth chattering. 

“<That’s me,>” John said. This time he did kiss Rodney’s head. “<Be good boy and keep shivering.>”

“<Among our department the general consensus is that we gossip about one another but never in front of outsiders,>” Zelenka said. “<So none of us would ever talk about you two so that someone might overhear. We will gossip scandalously and of course I will make up insane things that the two of you did during this rescue when you thought I wasn’t looking, but they will be blatant lies for the most part and nobody will take them seriously. And they will never leave the normal gossip circles.>”

“<I’m not worry, mostly,>” John said. He looked over at Zelenka. “<But you know how weak I am to politics.>”

“<Of course,>” Zelenka said. “<As are we all, in different ways. But we have all known, for a long time, what it is to protect one another from outsiders. Have no fear, my friend.>”

John laughed. “I have lots of fears,” he said, switching back to English. It was odd, to know he was the one with the broken accent, while Zelenka was fluent— a turning of the tables. “But flying’s not among them. Thank you, Radek, for coming out here even though you were afraid to. I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been here. The plan I had wouldn’t have worked at all.”

“And you would have tried anyway,” Zelenka said shrewdly, “and I would have had to come out in the _second_ rescue jumper after all, so really, was just faster this way.” He shook his head. “I am not hero. I am afraid all the time. But I have learned that it is better to do something while you still can, even if you are afraid.”

“Oh,” John said, “the only ones who are really heroes are the ones who are afraid.”

“You aren’t afraid of very much,” Zelenka said. “And why would you be? You are good at fighting, and shooting, and running. I am only good at hiding.”

“I’m fuckin’ terrified most of the time,” John said. “I’m just more afraid of failure than I am of shooting things and fighting.” 

Rodney shuddered hard, and made a pained sound, tightening his arm around John’s back. “I’m so cold,” he said. 

“I know,” John said, “you’re sucking all the life out of me too.” His teeth chattered as he said it. 

“Sam Carter was there,” Rodney said. “She told me you guys would find me. And I should’ve listened to her.”

“Sam Carter was where?” John asked, blinking down at him. 

“She was in the jumper,” Rodney said. 

“Um,” John said, and looked over at Zelenka, who shrugged elaborately. 

“I know,” Rodney said, “she was a hallucination. But she helped me. I should thank her.”

“You hallucinated Sam Carter,” John said. 

“Yeah,” Rodney said, sounding blissful. “She’s not smarter than me, you know. But she’s… she’s so wise.”

“Sure,” John said. “So, um, that concussion’s pretty bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rodney said. He shivered, and nuzzled his face into John’s chest, bleeding on his shirt. “My head hurts.”

“I bet it does,” John said. He was shivering, and some of it was cold, but some of it was the post-mission shakes, which was crazy, but Jesus, he’d almost lost Rodney, and that was nightmare territory. “We’re almost there, and then Beckett can fix your head, okay buddy?”

“Okay,” Rodney said. 

John keyed the radio. “Sheppard to base,” he said. 

“Acknowledged,” the technician answered.

“We are approaching now, ETA two minutes,” John said. “Can a medical team meet us in the jumper bay?”

“Roger that,” the technician answered, “we’re two steps ahead of you.”

“Good,” John said. 

“Pressure is normalized,” Zelenka said. “We will be able to open the hatch as soon as we land.”

“Good,” John said. “That’s good. Everything’s good.” He was shaking, and had to clench his jaw against his teeth chattering. It was unexpectedly difficult to get the jumper into the jumper bay, but then the automatic docking routine took over and set the jumper down perfectly on the floor. If only Blackhawks did that, it’d be a lot easier to fly them, John thought, not for the first time, but he was grateful for it now, when he normally wasn’t. Now was not a time for him to attempt precision. 

He dropped the hatch and unlocked the pilot’s seat so it swiveled. Beckett was in first, taking Rodney’s pulse. “Ach,” Carson said, “Rodney, you’ve given us a scare. Can you look at me for a moment?”

“Gave _you_ a scare?” Rodney said. “Believe me, I gave _me_ a way worse scare.”

“I dunno,” John said, and it was coming out of his mouth before he had any conscious control over it, “I was pretty fuckin’ terrified.”

“That’s _my_ line,” Zelenka said. 

Beckett and an orderly manhandled Rodney away from John and onto a gurney. Rodney actually complained that he didn’t want to let go of Sheppard because he was warm. “We’ve got hot water bottles,” Beckett said. “They’re even warmer than Colonel Sheppard.” Beckett gave John a look and paused. “Och, lad, your lips are blue!”

“Rodney’s like a giant ice cube,” John said, and his teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms around himself. 

“Here,” Beckett said, and tossed something to John. It was a hot water bottle. “I’ve got plenty, take one.”

John tucked it up against his chest and shivered, pulling his jacket around himself and nodding his thanks as he got to his feet. Zelenka was standing in the corner, tablet hugged to his chest. 

“Hey,” John said, and held his hand out to Zelenka. “Good work.”

“Yes, yes,” Zelenka said, “and you, you had good ideas. You are as McKay says, smarter than you pretend.”

“Don’t blow my cover,” John said, but it wasn’t lighthearted, it was absent, and he trailed out of the jumper behind the gurney and stood in the jumper bay as they wheeled Rodney away. 

“Hey,” Elizabeth said, touching his arm, “good work.”

John blinked, refocusing his eyes with difficulty to look at her. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, at least we got McKay back. If his brains aren’t too scrambled.”

“Is it that bad?” Elizabeth asked, quieter. 

John shook his head. “Probably not,” he said. “But he was telling me about a hallucination of Sam Carter, or something? Very weird.” He took a breath, composed himself, shook his head again. “Right. AAR. Zelenka has more to write up than me, he came up with the method to extend the shield unidirectionally. Pretty genius, actually.” He rubbed his face. “Jesus, I’m freezing.” 

“C’mon,” Elizabeth said, the ‘concerned’ wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. “Let’s get you a cup of coffee. You seem pretty rattled.”

“We almost lost him,” John said. “And we did lose Griffin.” Griffin had been on loan from the _Daedalus_ , hadn’t even been one of John’s guys. He had a sinking feeling that the guy’d had a family, kids probably, he remembered something about it. They didn’t even have a body to send them. 

“Did you get—“ Weir began hesitantly. 

John shook his head. “We couldn’t get into the forward compartment. Unlikely his remains would’ve still been in there, the ship traveled quite a distance after the implosion of the front screen.”

“His transmitter,” Weir said. 

John shrugged. “Dunno if he had one,” he said. “Not all the _Daedalus_ people did.”

They were on the level with their offices now. Weir tugged at his sleeve, urging him to come down to the mess hall, but John hesitated. “I’m actually,” he said, and hooked a thumb toward his office. “Gonna go write that report. Before I forget anything.”

“I’ll bring you a cup of coffee,” Elizabeth said. 

“That’d be awful nice of you,” John said. 

 

The cup of coffee and the hot water bottle had long gone cold when he managed to get to his feet and walk down to the infirmary. He brought the hot water bottle with him. He felt brittle, like he was made of glass. Rodney had almost died. They collectively almost died all the time, and John himself almost died pretty much every other day, but being safe and whole and well while Rodney was staring a very unpleasant death in the face was kind of new, for John, and it really wasn’t sitting well. 

Which wasn’t good; John wasn’t Rodney’s mom and really couldn’t feasibly construct a world-view around keeping him safe from danger. He couldn’t insist on protecting Rodney everywhere he went. And it was just as likely Rodney would die in some stupid freak accident on base as he would while offworld with the team. It was just a part of life, and John just had to accept it, and he was totally fucking freaking out and this was bad.

He wandered into the infirmary and found the on-duty physician, a young woman doctor whose name he didn’t know yet but who obviously knew him. “Colonel Sheppard,” she said. “Have you come to check in on Dr. McKay, then?”

“Oh,” John said, “is he still here?”

“He’s still under observation,” she said. “I think Dr. Beckett was just talking to him, though.”

“Is he okay, mostly?” John asked. He was doing pretty well, he thought, at playing it cool, maybe. Polite concern. He was doing polite concern. His face was shaped into polite concern, he thought. Probably. Not freaking out. 

“Oh,” the doctor said, “yes, mostly. There were no lasting complications from the hypothermia, and the concussion is moderate.”

John held out the hot water bottle. “I actually came to give this back,” he said. “Beckett gave it to me after Rodney sucked all my body heat out with his giant frozen ass.”

Rodney wasn’t there to defend his ass, so it just made the doctor giggle and made John feel like a heel. Rodney’s ass was not particularly giant but it was perfectly heart-shaped. Which wasn’t really appropriate to get into here. Beckett stepped out from behind a curtain, then, and said, “Ah, Colonel. Have you defrosted?”

“Just givin’ back the hot water bottle,” John said. “How’s McKay?”

“He’s not fussing or whining or kicking up any kind of trouble,” Beckett said, “but apart from that, all other signs point to a full recovery. That was a nasty knock to his head. It’s good you got him out of that water when you did, as well. And well done with the rewarming.”

John nodded. “You keepin’ him here a while?”

Beckett frowned. “He wanted to go back to his quarters,” he said. “But I’d rather not have him alone for a little while.”

“I’ll watch him,” John said. “I don’t mind, we hang out all the time.”

“Aye,” Beckett said, “you do.” He looked over at the curtain. “You know what to watch for, right?”

“I’ve had my share of concussions,” John said wryly.

And so he found himself shepherding Rodney gently down the hallway. Rodney was in a bathrobe over infirmary scrubs, with a hot water bottle tucked into his chest and a bandage around his head, and was visibly groggy and unsteady. John kept steering him by the elbow. 

“I’m so tired,” Rodney said quietly, not at all whiny. “I just want my own bed.”

“Can’t blame ya,” John said. “I’m just gonna keep an eye on you for a while, make sure you’re okay.”

Rodney didn’t look up. His walk, head down and shuffling, was perhaps the most distressing aspect of his condition. ‘Thanks,” he said quietly. 

John got the door open, herded Rodney through, and steered him to a seat on the edge of the bed. He rooted around in the drawers under the bed until he found every spare blanket Rodney owned, and dug out Rodney’s fleeciest winter pyjama pants and one of his oldest, softest t-shirts. 

He helped Rodney strip down and put the pyjamas on. They were homemade, from some marvellously soft knit fabric they’d traded for that first year, and John had done most of the finishing work; they’d been handed out from stores with unhemmed, raw edges, and John had stolen them from Rodney’s laundry pile and worked buttonholes and stitched the hems so they wouldn’t fall apart, mostly while he was laid up with bronchitis that one time. 

“Scared me pretty good,” he said quietly, helping Rodney put on his thickest woolly socks. 

“Scared me good too,” Rodney said. John went and found Rodney’s orange fleece in his closet, and Rodney pulled it on and wrapped his arms around himself, sinking into the gaudy, fuzzy jacket.

“Roll over,” John said, shedding his jacket, belt, thigh holster, and boots. “You get to be the little spoon since you almost died.”

Rodney obeyed, and John slid under the blankets, wrapping his arm around Rodney’s midsection and pressing his chest up against Rodney’s shoulder blades. “Ohgod,” John said, feeling the coldness of Rodney’s body against his arm. “You’re still freezing.”

“I know,” Rodney said miserably. 

“I figured Carson would have you up to temp,” John said. “Jeez.”

“I’m within a degree or so,” Rodney said, “but I’m just so tired and so cold and I can’t get warm.”

John nuzzled at the back of his neck. “I’ve got you,” he said. 

“I know,” Rodney said, and sighed, settling comfortably. He tucked his hands under John’s arm, wrapped around the hot water bottle. 

John nuzzled at his neck for a little bit, smelling disinfectant but the recovering smell of a clean Rodney under that. “I guess I have more sympathy for how you feel when I do something dumb and almost get killed,” he said. 

“I promise you,” Rodney said wearily, “I wasn’t doing anything dumb.” He shivered. “That was fuckin’ awful. And Griffin— I can’t believe he did that.”

“Yeah,” John said, thinking. If he’d been in that jumper, he’d’ve done the same. What else was there to do? Either one of them died, or both of them died, and that was that. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Bein’ alone probably didn’t make it any easier.” He laid his head on the pillow and put his nose right in the spot where Rodney’s hair tapered out at the nape of his neck. 

“It’s weird,” Rodney said. “I guess I hate being alone so much my brain just didn’t let it happen. I hallucinated Sam Carter and it was probably the most convincing hallucination I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” John asked. 

“Yeah,” Rodney said. “She was— it was like she was really there. I could hear her, and see her, and I could even touch her.”

“Whoa,” John said. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Rodney said, a little more animated, though still sleep-soft and drowsy. “She was even pretty convincingly in-character. Except for a couple times when she wasn’t.”

John laughed softly. “Oh yeah? What’d she do?”

“Well,” Rodney said, “for one, she took her shirt off, which I really doubt she’d’ve done in real life.”

“Whoa,” John said again, suddenly cold right in the middle of his chest. Near death, Rodney hallucinated _tits_. That just fucking figured.

“She had a really cute blue bra on,” Rodney said dreamily. “And I mean, her tits were _fantastic_. I knew that, but I mean…”

“Rodney,” John said, feeling a little queasy.

“I even made out with her,” Rodney said, “until I realized what I was actually doing, which was kind of akin to masturbation, and that was disturbing. Anyway, she was, I think, an embodiment of all my better instincts, actually. She was trying to talk me out of an idea that I somehow knew was a bad one, but felt the need to attempt even though it was likely to be self-destructive, just because trying something was better than waiting passively for death. In a way, she was really advocating for you; her point was that my people would work out a way to save me and I should just have faith.”

“You,” John said, fumbling to follow, “made out with… a hallucination… of a former coworker… in your mind.”

“Well,” Rodney said. “Briefly.” He wriggled a little bit, settling himself tighter against John’s chest. “I should send her a note or something. Thank her.”

“Um,” John said, “I think she’d mostly be creeped the fuck out, Rodney.”

Rodney considered that. “I guess so,” he said. He yawned. “But still. It was nice not to be alone. Even if really, I was.”

“Yeah,” John said, uncomfortable. That was weird. Definitely weird. Before he could think of anything else to say, Rodney sighed and slowly went completely lax as he fell asleep. John kept his face pressed against the back of Rodney’s neck, trying not to feel rejected. The man could hardly help what he hallucinated in a near-death state, now could he?

That didn’t mean it wasn’t significant, though. 

John waited until Rodney had grown warm all the way through to slip out of the bed and go sit on the couch until it was time to wake Rodney for dinner.


End file.
